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[Obie Trice]
Yeah, Obie Trice, real name, no gimmicks
I came in the game, profane, no image
I came in the game with a name I's given
From a man who ain't give a fuck about his children
I proclaim the name no, never in vain, no
Watch the change grow
A young nigger who don gain from fame
Cop the Range Rove
Now they want my brains on the main road
But they don't understand what I came for
I came forth with a million sold
Who said you can't grow from mildew?
And mold, gettin’ money like Ross Perole
I'm often told a coffin's the route's I go
Or that's the roads you on, oh no
I'm down for the rightful tone of four four
Don't ever try to send a nigger home
I know you wanna catch me at Sonoco
Show me that you're loco
Put holes in my photo
Nope, Obie hold toast
No jokes send slugs threw your Polo
Just cause O a thug, roll solo
Impose on grown folks, be a cold Negro
Be low, you grieved up people
Believe that the boy see no evil
[Busta Rhymes]
Oh
I have you yellin' out
When I bag the 30/30 Rifle
Oh
Too late for niggers to get religious
And start readin' they Bible
Oh
See you get down like other niggers
You be in that dirty cycle
Oh
See you should make peace
Instead of makin' me become a psycho
[Obie Trice]
I visualized it
O Trice at twenty-five survived it
Pride but violent
Invite the violence, fist fightin' the fireman
Beat retirement 'til these niggers nights is silent
O Trice from a triflin’ environment
He rocks the mic, no sight of retirin'
Maybe when the bank accounts light like Leviathan
I'm in position to hire other clients
Meanwhile I'm a virus like Iverson
A nigger crossover Europeans and Myaran
And the soldiers retirin'
I ain't buyin'
Motherfuckers actin’ like they denyin' him
Who tryin’ a nigger whose view's biased
I figure your crews tired
My trigger introduces violence (dudes through sirens)
You want to spittle Orange Juice and Vitamins
[Busta Rhymes]
Oh
I have you yellin' out
When I bag the 30/30 Rifle
Oh
Too late for niggers to get religious
And start readin' they Bible
Oh
See you get down like other niggers
You be in that dirty cycle
Oh
See you should make peace
Instead of makin' me become a psycho
[Obie Trice]
A daralent co-inherent hustle
My heritage married the street struggle
Like a couple of great aunt's ago
So this blood streams through my nuts
Seems like I wasn't like I wasn't in touch
When the teacher had spoke
Now I was just a preacher in O
Seat on the bleachers and flip coke
The only reachin’ that got threw my dome
Niggers gamble so they gat oughta be chrome
Pulled the winnin’ raffle so
I scramble with the track and the foams
Fuck an act and a clone
This is actual happenin’s
That's factual, back in my home
This is rap, but I ain't rappin'
So you clap in the zone
Think you're trapped in the act
For the sake of performin'
This is your warnin'
Run upon them wrong
And your tissue was burnin'
A hundred degrees more
O Trizzy gone
My nigger Bust
Bring the hook back in for em
[Busta Rhymes]
Oh
I have you yellin' out
When I bag the 30/30 Rifle
Oh
Too late for niggers to get religious
And start readin' they Bible
Oh
See you get down like other niggers
You be in that dirty cycle
Oh
See you should make peace
Instead of makin' me become a psycho
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